


A Question of Faith

by SaneCharlie



Category: Sentinels of the Multiverse (Card Game)
Genre: Catholicism, Christianity, Comic Book Violence, Dok Thorath civil war, Gen, Prime Wardens, Religion, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaneCharlie/pseuds/SaneCharlie
Summary: Returning to Dok Thorath after a mission took them away, Fanatic and Captain Cosmic find the planet is still embroiled in the chaotic civil war that erupted with the disappearance of Grand Warlord Voss. Worse, they cannot track down the rest of the Prime Wardens!In the middle of this battle, Fanatic meets a young Thorathian, whose questions about her faith make her wonder about her true place in the universe. Is this really what she's meant for?
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

The explosion shattered through the wall, sending rubble showering outwards from the massive hole to pepper the surrounding walls, and instantly figures pushed their way out through the gap. They were armed, and fired their electric-arcing weapons back at their pursuers, even as they did their best to escape.  
At the very rear of the group came two people who didn’t match the rest. One was a man in a striking red and gold coat, and he deflected yet another attack with a sword made of golden light before glancing at the other oddity who fought beside him - a woman in shining armour, whose eyes glowed out from beneath dark hair, and whose wings were whiter than bone.  
“Fanatic! We have to go!”  
The woman bared her teeth at him, but she couldn’t deny that they were being overrun. Energy crackled as the enemy advanced. Every shot came closer than those before it, a march that could only end in death.  
“Go, then! Run!”  
“Not without you! You aren’t sacrificing yourself today!”  
“Fear not!” She gathered her hands together, and the light they bore, already bright, grew to a blinding intensity. “Hide your eyes!”  
He threw himself aside and covered his face just as she released the restrained energy, and an enormous, blinding flash burst out. There were shouts of pain and confusion, and the angel grabbed her friend by the shoulder.  
“ _Now_ we can go.” 

* * *

Dok'Thorath is a mighty world, the jewel nestled at the heart of a mighty empire, and as it was to the empire, so its capital city was to the planet. It was a beautiful place, a palace for its citizens, full of wide avenues, soaring architecture, sweet-scented public gardens, and statues memorialising notable figures from Thorathian history.   
At least, that's what it had been, once upon a time. Now, over a century of conflict had transformed it into just another component in a massive, implacable war machine, stripping away its beauty in the service of destruction and control - and even that was before the rebellion had begun, freedom fighters punching burning wounds across its surface as they struck back against their oppressors. The flames from tonight's attack were still burning, smoke spiralling into the night sky, the diffuse glow casting strange shadows over the cloaked figures which hurried away down narrow, winding streets. They came to a small courtyard, and scuttled along its edges towards a doorway.  
The one in front knocked, and when a voice from behind it asked a question, they answered with a code phrase. The door was unlocked, the ragged group ushered inside.  
Safely indoors, the group removed their shrouding cloaks, revealing their incongruous nature. They were men and women, young and old, some scarred and muscular, others with only the lines around their eyes to suggest the violence of their lives.  
With only a few mumbled words, the group began to disperse, freedom fighters dividing themselves down hallways to find their cramped, makeshift barracks. The two earthling heroes who had fought beside them now watched them go, and the man nodded to himself reflexively.  
"Looks like everyone is turning in. I think I'll do the same, since I suspect we have some busy days ahead of us."  
His companion nodded, said nothing. He tried not to sigh.  
"You ought to rest as well. Even if you don't sleep, you should try and relax. It won't do you any good to burn yourself out." There was no response. Naturally. "I know that you're disappointed that we haven't tracked down the others yet. I hoped we'd find something at that command post as much as you did, but taking it down is still a victory. And we'll keep searching for the others. We'll find them."  
Her expression was stony, but she said "Thank you, Captain. I hope that you sleep soundly."  
He gave a half-hearted little smile, and walked away to find somewhere to sleep. Fanatic watched him go, then walked to a wall, knelt, and closed her eyes to begin her nightly prayers. 

"My Lord," she said, softly enough not to wake anyone who might be sleeping nearby, "you are great and mighty. Thank you for what you have done this day. I thank you for the strength you gave to me and my allies, that we were able to strike at the enemy, working righteous destruction and confusion against them in your name. I am glad that we were able to make this attack without losing the lives of any of our fighters. I know, Lord, that you love justice, and that the plight of these people who are unjustly oppressed must tear at your heart. Please continue to lend your strength to this fight, through the actions of all your servants.  
Lord, I pray that our actions today bring hope to those who have none, that they strike fear into the hearts of the wicked, and that they inspire further acts from those who can help others in their own ways, whatever those may be. I pray that you guide our words and deeds so that they may do the most good for those in need.  
She thought for a moment - most of the previous prayers were variations on familiar thoughts, but this next was more original. "My Lord, Captain Cosmic and I both fight as fiercely as we may in defence of the weak and the victimised, and we are stronger together than we are apart. This is also true of our other friends - Haka, the Argent Adept, and Tempest. We searched for them again today, and though we accomplished much, we did not find any clues to their current whereabouts. I know that whatever keeps us divided must be in accordance with your divine will, Lord, and I understand that in your wisdom you will use them as is best. Still, I pray that we are soon reunited so that we may once again fight as a single team, and that we may destroy the injustice that causes you sorrow."  
She heard the shuffling feet and quiet breaths of someone standing over her. But she was praying, so she tried to put the distraction out of her mind.  
"What are you doing?"  
She considered continuing to ignore them, then immediately scolded herself for being so uncharitable. Her eyes opened. Standing in front of her was an adolescent female Thorathian. Her youth made her one of the less visibly scarred among the resistance fighters, with only a healed burn protruding from underneath her right sleeve.  
A simple question deserved a simple answer. "I am praying."  
"What's that?"  
She wasn't immediately sure if the girl was serious, but her tone was certainly plain enough. "I am speaking to God, asking Him for strength and guidance. Is that not something that Thorathians do?"  
"I don't think so. Not really." She shrugged. "I think we used to have gods, but we're not supposed to talk about them."  
"Who tells you not to?"  
Another shrug. "The government, I guess. The Grand Warlord."  
Her fists were trying to clench, but she kept them under control. More or less. "Do you know of anyone who still maintains your faith, despite this appalling restriction?"  
"Not really. I mean, I think there used to be some people who carried on what they could. They had secret hideouts or something. But I think they all got caught by the military and killed, back before I was born."  
"Monstrous!" She couldn't hold it in - and she was standing, now, her wings spreading wide, fists burning with holy light. "To crush your own people's faith! And for what? For worldly power? Control!? Monstrous!"  
The young alien had taken a couple of steps away, and her body had the tension of an animal about to flee. She took a breath deep down into her chest and let it cool the flames of her anger as much as it could. Which was not much, but at least after a few seconds she was able to settle her wings, and the Thorathian youth calmed as she did.  
She knelt again, folding her hands together in her lap - both to help her calm down, and to keep her hands from balling into fists again. "I'm sorry. I simply _hate-_ " she clenched her teeth. It wasn't this girl's fault that his ruler was such an evil tyrant. "I apologise for my outburst. It was not directed at you."  
"It's okay." She was back to looking curious, now, which was a definite improvement over fear. "This is a big thing for you, huh?"  
"My religious faith is the foundation of everything I am and everything I do. People call me 'Fanatic' with good reason. Yes, it's important to me."  
"Oh, okay." She sat down in front of her, cross-legged, and cocked her head slightly. "Could you tell me about it?"  
"I could." She pursed her lips a little. "I would ask, first, why you are so curious? Even if most of your own faithful are gone, there must be someone who knows your old ways, but I don't think you've sought them out."  
"I guess. I don't know, I never met anyone who believes the way you seem to. Never met anyone who cares about it like that."  
"Alright. What would you like to know?"  
"I dunno." The girl shrugged. "You said you were praying? What's that exactly?"  
"Prayer is how I speak to God. I thank Him for the help He has given me, and ask him to give me strength and guidance so that I can better serve him."  
"Oh, okay." The girl nodded, then froze. "Wait, serve? Like a servant?"  
"Yes, that's right. I strive to serve the Lord and his will as well as I may."  
"Why?"  
" _Why?_ " The spark of irritation flickered up again. "What do you mean, why?"  
"Well, you could do anything, right? I mean, I've seen you fight. With power like yours, you could do whatever you want to! You don't have to just do what someone else tells you!"  
She felt her feathers ruffling up. "I follow my God because I choose to. Because he's my creator. Because it's the right thing to do. His wisdom is infinite and his plans are for the good of everyone, even when they're beyond mortal understanding!"  
"So what, you do whatever, just because he says? What if he told you to do something awful?"  
"I have faith in his goodness. Whatever he asks for, he has a good reason, so he wouldn't ask me to do anything that was evil or wrong."  
The girl glowered. "You sound like the scum who work as the Warlord's lieutenants. Why obey the Warlord? Because he's the Warlord. Why are his orders worth following? Because he's the Warlord."  
This time she was aware of the movement as she rose and flared her wings, as her muscles flexed and her teeth bared. "How dare you! How dare you say something so vile!"  
"How _dare_ I? Please, you were just telling me you'd do whatever your God told you! You'd do anything, kill anyone, you'd turn us all over to the Grand Warlord if you thought your God wanted you to!"  
"Rakad!"  
The new voice cracked across the room, staggering both Fanatic and the girl - who, presumably, was called Rakad. It was a stern voice, with the creak of age in the back of it, and Rakad's head was already lowered in embarrassment at the scolding.  
"It's late. You need to clean and check your gear before you run out of energy. Make sure you don't leave things in a mess, this time."  
Rakad shot an angry look at Fanatic, but it was clear she couldn't disobey this man, not when he'd spoken to her so directly. "Yes, Gyuus. Sorry."  
"Don't worry about it. Go on, now."  
She stalked off with all the poise her adolescent body could muster, and Fanatic and Gyuus watched until she was out of sight around a hallway.

Gyuus was the first to sigh, letting a little tension out of his shoulders. Fanatic took a look at him. He was older, as Thorathians went - there were lines on his face that most of the fighters hadn't had the chance to develop, especially around his eyes, and age was starting to make him stocky. He turned back to her, a rueful smile pushed across his lips.  
"Thank you for...stopping our argument." It was galling, but it would be wrong to act ungrateful.  
"It's no problem. Rakad's a good fighter, but, you know. Got a temper on her."  
She could relate. "I assume you heard most of our argument?"  
"Afraid so. Sorry."  
"I'm the one who should be sorry. It was my fault. I didn't properly consider how she would take what I was saying to her. She seemed to think my beliefs were tantamount to following someone like Voss!"  
"Well, you know. The kid's young. I mean, I'm a lot older than she is, and even I've never known any real authority that didn't come down from the Grand Warlord. Can't exactly blame her for being a bit of a sceptic when it comes to gods and rulers."  
Fanatic's lips were still tight. "No, I suppose not."  
"My name's Gyuus." He raised both palms, a traditional Thorathian greeting that she mirrored politely.  
"Fanatic."  
"Oh, I know who you are. But it's nice that you're humble enough not to assume it."  
She nodded, but her mind was elsewhere, and he noticed her expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude..."  
"No, I was just thinking. Rakad said that the Warlord had wiped out your religion. Is that true?"  
"More or less." Gyuus grimaced, and sat on a nearby bench. "It started long before I was born - from what I'm told, wasn't too long after he took over the Empire. Guess our old faith didn't really line up with his conquering ambitions."  
"What happened?"  
"Well, I don't know a lot of the details. From what I heard, the Warlord put out a decree saying that the old religion was false, and nobody was supposed to follow it any more. Said if they wanted to believe in something they could believe in the Empire. Of course, some people kept practicing, so he had his troops catch them, and...that was it." He shrugged and ran a hand awkwardly through his hair. "Maybe there's still people carrying it on in secret, but if there are, they're doing it so quietly that I've never heard about it, and I've been with the rebels pretty much as long as anybody."  
"I'm sorry." It felt too little to say. "I have my own faith, but I grieve for your people's loss. It is awful that it was wiped out like that. Is there...do you remember any part of it? Any commands, laws, parables?"  
"Well, there was the one about giving the proper respect to your family, but it was my parents who taught me that, so I don't know if it's necessarily a religious thing, exactly." He thought. "I do remember one story, if you'd want to hear it."  
It was strange - it was a religion with no relation to her own, and seemingly a dead one, but something urged her to listen to the man's tale. She put her trust in that something. "Please."  
"Alright. This is one my old grandmother used to tell me. She liked stories where people get what's coming to them, so - well, you'll see.  
Okay, so long ago there was no Grand Warlord, there was no Empire, there wasn't even a Planetary Navy because we hadn't left the planet yet. Back in those long-ago days, our world was covered in a whole mess of little nations, all kinds and all sizes, and those nations tended to war with each other an awful lot, so they'd grow and shrink and change around. That made life hard for a lot of people, particularly the poorer kind of people, since between the wars and the stuff the wars left behind, a lot of good things tended to get destroyed."  
He wasn't even looking at her now - there was a carving in the stone wall opposite them, a set of lines that wound around each other in a maze, and his eyes were tracing their way back and forth through those tracks as he spoke.  
"Now there was one particular ruler, went by the name of Julyus. He was a clever sort, clever enough to see that all this conflict was no good for anybody, and it so happened that his domain was one of the bigger ones in his area. This was over on the continent east of here, Dok'Yabbri, down towards its south end. Anyway. He was surrounded by other rulers, some warlords like himself to the north, and some nomadic tribal types to the south. None of the rulers really liked any of the others, and they mostly warred with each other and raided each other like rulers did anywhere else. Julyus wanted to put a stop to that sort of nonsense, and so what he did was, he prayed to Ran-eth the Weaver, god of order and chaos.  
From what my grandmother used to tell me - and maybe you know for yourself - when most people pray they don't get much in the way of answers, but this guy must have been interesting or important enough, because the Weaver heard his prayer and appeared in front of him. He explained the situation, and he told the god what he wanted. He said that he needed to know how to bring peace, order, and unity to his end of the continent. The Weaver seemed helpful enough, told him that if he took over his nearest neighbours to the north, then very soon the whole continent would be united. Just what he wanted, right?  
So Julyus did what he'd been told, attacked first one warlord, then the second. He had bigger armies than either of them did, so it went pretty easily for him, and now instead of having a domain a little bigger than his neighbours, now he had one about three times the size of any of theirs. Big success by anyone's standards, but he wasn't satisfied. Not by a long shot. He kept building his armies, and soon he attacked again - this time, hitting out to the east. It looked like he'd win easily, because that warlord didn't have too much to start with, and now he had a lot more people to fight for him. He figured it'd be easy from that point on.  
But when he attacked, he found that armies turned up from the north and south to stop him, too many for him to win against - and when he tried retreating, he found out that armies had come in from the west as well, taken over his lands behind him, cut him off. With nowhere to go, Julyus was defeated, captured, and killed.  
See, what Julyus hadn't realised was that when he attacked his first two enemies, he'd scared the others around him, scared them enough that they got over the way they hated each other, and made proper alliances saying that they'd protect each other. By the time he went east, they'd been ready for him. But even with him dead and gone, they realised that they kind of liked being allies, and not fighting all the time. They all got together and talked things out, and after a little time had passed they became known as the Yabbr Republic. For five hundred years the Republic ruled that part of the world, and it was big, stable, and mostly orderly. And it was all thanks to Julyus, and to the way that the Weaver makes order out of what looks like chaos."  
Fanatic frowned. "Hmm."  
"What is it?"  
“I think I see why Voss would want people to stop telling that story - or any others that feature evil empire-builders being cast down by divine power. But I don’t know if I like this Weaver very much. They seem very underhanded.”  
Gyuus grinned. “Yeah, I used to say the same thing. I guess I was always kind of straightforward for a kid. But grandmother said I shouldn’t get too hung up on a dead warlord who definitely wasn’t a nice person anyway, said I was missing the point of the story. See, Julyus thought being the tool of a god meant he was favoured, destined for glory. But anyone can be useful to the gods. Doesn’t always mean they like you much. So, you know...”  
“Remain humble. Even if you think you have divine favour.”  
“That’s it!”   
"'When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.' Yes." She pushed herself upright. "Thank you, Gyuus, you've given me a lot to think about. I'm going to take a walk. If anyone asks you where I am, please tell them I will return soon."  
"Of course. I hope the fresh air clears your thoughts."

* * *

Fanatic didn't like going around cloaked. It felt dishonest, and she hated dishonesty. She would much rather face her enemies head-on, to have a simple showdown between her strength and theirs, instead of this skulduggery. Even if she understood why it was necessary here.  
And the cloak always messed up her feathers.  
She wasn't sure exactly where she was walking to, but the restless energy in her body wouldn't let her stop. Streets turned this way and that, winding in a maze that kept spiralling outwards, drawing her slowly away from the rebel hideout, though not yet so far that she couldn't find her way back.  
Turning another corner, she found a stairway leading up, and she began to climb. It wound to the left, and finally let out at a sheltered rooftop with a view of the city. In the distance were larger buildings - hulking, ugly things near the centre, surrounding what she knew was the military command ziggurat. Further out, the buildings became smaller, and some were older, remnants of the ages before Voss that mixed with the blocky new constructions.  
She shook her head, and turned away - then stopped still. There, in an alcove hidden against the wall, was a statue. It was clearly old, and had been vandalised almost beyond comprehensibility, missing its head and most of one arm. Still the figure was recognisably a Thorathian form, and in its remaining hands were a bundle of threads, captured in the act of weaving themselves together. This, then, was an image of the Thorathian trickster god that Gyuus had been telling her about. It was quite a surprise that even this much of a statue had survived, when so much else had been destroyed.  
Unlikely indeed. She closed her eyes, and once again, lowered her head to pray.  
"My Lord." She stopped, thought, almost started, stopped again. "You know that I am your loyal servant. I wish to serve you in the best way I can, to magnify your name and to work for your will. I..." Her mouth twisted, not wanting to say it aloud. "I failed you tonight. You brought me a young person who wanted to hear about you, and I pushed her away. I told her things that made her angry. I turned her away from your light."  
The inside of her head, normally so ordered, normally a place of peace, was discordant and confusing. She opened her eyes again, and stared out at the dark horizon while she prayed. "I know that we all serve you as our gifts dictate, Lord, and I know that you do not give us burdens which are too heavy for us to carry. But I do not know how to carry this burden. I can be a sword and a shield for you, Lord, but I do not know how to speak of you in a way that others will listen to. I do not mean to deny your will, I would never. I will always be your humble servant." The horizon was blurring - she blinked, and it cleared, as a couple of tears rolled away. "But please, Lord, if you wish me to advocate for you, then...help me to speak. Help me to find the words. Please. I cannot do it on my own."  
There was a noise like a crack of thunder, that echoed across the rooftops and through the streets.  
For a fraction of a second, she thought that the noise was His answer. Then she saw the flashes of light, heard the crack of energy rifles, heard the answering blasts of the rebel guns. She took to the air, flying low and as fast as she could, hoping and praying that she would not be too late, fearing that she already was.


	2. Chapter 2

Morden Kir’Vehk was proud of being sergeant to his squad. All through his schooling, he’d hoped to become good enough to join the military and fight the enemies of the Empire. He’d enlisted as soon as he could, one recruit among many, and when basic training was finished and he was finally sent into battle, he'd thrown himself into every fight with ferocity and abandon. He'd told himself that it didn’t matter that he didn’t have powers like the Twinhearts who dominated the upper ranks of the Grand Warlord’s forces. That was an advantage he didn’t need. No, he would show them that he was brave enough, loyal enough, strong enough to lead a whole army to victory! All he needed was the opportunity.

When their unit had fought against an uprising on an outer colony world, that opportunity had come at last. They had been bogged down in urban fighting, moving inexorably from street to street, from building to building, but the rebels refused to simply surrender. He remembered being enraged at their stupidity. It was ridiculous for anyone to think they could defeat the might of the Thorathian Empire, ridiculous and arrogant, and his contempt for them had grown and grown. By the time they had reached the fortified city hall that formed the centre of the planetary rebellion, he was almost glowing with hate.  
But his commanding officer at the time had been too timid. Instead of pushing forward, she had been convinced that all they needed to do was keep the city hall surrounded and wait for the enemy surrender. He’d protested that they should attack, crush them with numbers, but she’d been adamant, claiming they’d sit, and wait, and not lose a drop of Thorathian blood in the process.  
Well, that had confirmed it: she was a coward. Which meant she was not worthy of his obedience. 

He'd yelled a warcry that called his squadmates' attention and charged towards the enemy fortifications, and most of the squad had followed in his wake. Enemy fire had crackled around him blasting stone into the air and sending some of his friends down for good, but the rest had carried the charge right up to the wall and over it, flowing like a wave, sweeping the rebels aside and crushing their pitiful resistance. It had been a day full of blood and death. It had been a day of glory.

When the fighting was done, he'd reported his commander's behaviour to her superiors, and he'd agitated until the transgression developed into a crime, addressed by a tribunal, and finished with her demoted and reassigned. He was gratified by that, even more so when he was rewarded with promotion to sergeant, taking over the vacant position.

In his new rank he was aggressive in every action. When the Grand Warlord vanished, his squad was brought home to Dok Thorath and fought eagerly against the rebels who had risen there. There always seemed to be more of them, but he never tired of crushing the poorly-equipped and fragmented enemy forces. Indeed, he revelled in it. And tonight was no different. He'd backed up his lieutenant in the attack on the rebel hideout, an older mansion belonging to one of the wealthier merchant families that had clung on through the changes that had eliminated many like them since the Warlord came to power. The lieutenant had led the charge, blasting away with his energy powers - and when one of the alien supers had appeared and fought back, the lieutenant locked him down in a bubble of darkness while his squad surrounded him and took him out.

With a captured super in custody, along with a few of the enemy combatants, the situation had changed. The lieutenant's primary duty was to restrain the super and take them to an appropriate prison, but the battle wasn't over yet. So he'd left Morden in charge, instructing him to finish the fight and then follow with the prisoners.

This was the sort of opportunity that Morden enjoyed. He ordered his squad into the building, and they moved from room to room cutting down resistance, taking prisoners of those who surrendered and eliminating the rest. It was a thrill to lead the charge, a joy when enemy shots crackled around his personal shield.

Another few shots fired, one final enemy fell, and there was finally silence.

He turned to his squad, signalled them with a gesture, and they moved out of the building. The other soldiers were gathered around a pair of armoured vehicles, loading in the shivering prisoners in the faint midnight glow. It disgusted him to see the prisoners there, still alive, but he comforted himself by remembering the torture they would face as interrogation technicians extracted every useful piece of information. Scum - they deserved worse.

With his mind locked on the prisoners, he didn't notice the shadow that fell across him. He didn't notice the faint noise of wind rushing through feathers. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until a massive weight crashed into the soldier beside him and smashed them senseless into the ground.

The attack had come out of nowhere, and his mind didn't recognise what was happening until the attacker threw back her wings and leaped into a second soldier, launching her into a wall with a crunch of bone. Another attack and finally his body responded - his gun came up, a few blasts flashed around and into the enemy. The remaining members of his squad did the same and the air was suddenly full of light that should have cut down their foe. Should have. Didn't. Every moment brought another attack and every one took down more of the soldiers, fists and what looked like a sword or an axe taking them down with a horrifying ease. He kept firing as the other guns fell silent, as his soldiers were smashed unconscious one after another, until only he was left.

The attacker faced him. The glow of her eyes was the brightest thing in the little courtyard as she strode across the stones. His gun fell from limp fingers and he took a couple of small, involuntary steps backwards, but nothing could have stopped that dreadful advance. Her wings swept out, she surged towards him and suddenly he was up in the air as she lifted him, hands under the shoulder-straps of his uniform, glaring down. He had just long enough to wonder what she was planning to do to him.

Then she let go, and the air rushed past as he fell.

* * *

The rebels had been wrapped in fearful silence at the moment Fanatic attacked. They'd scattered as much as they could manage, taken cover as weapons fired around them, and a couple had knocked soldiers from their feet and overpowered them while Fanatic's furious violence kept them distracted.

Now the silence had fallen again, and the angel landed, slowly approached. Her face was carefully still, but the anger underneath was flooding through her eyes and the corners of her mouth.

One of the prisoners - a solid, muscular woman with her arms still cuffed behind her - ran over to her and bowed in respect. "Thank you! We owe you our lives, thank you!"

"You owe me nothing. All thanks and praise are due to the Lord our God."

Someone scoffed loudly, and Fanatic's eyes blazed as she looked up to see who would dare show such disrespect. It was hardly a surprise to see Rakad, restrained like the others, face hard. "This is your fault! If you and your friend hadn't drawn us into your own battles, if you hadn't _used_ us, they wouldn't have tracked us back here!"

"Be quiet, girl! This woman-"

Rakad tore herself away from the scolding man at her side. "Shut up! Can't you see what's happened here? If not for her we'd be fine! Gyuus and the others would still be here!"

"You can't know that! For all we know, this raid's been planned for a lunar cycle or more!"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"What happened to them?" Fanatic's voice cut through the growing argument, and Rakad rounded on her.

"Since you ask, the soldiers took them. They took Gyuus and your friend and a few others prisoner, and left this lot to finish off the rest of us."

"Where? Where would they have taken them!?"

The answer didn't come straight away - nobody wanted to be the one to deliver bad news, not even Rakad. Finally the first woman spoke again.

"Most likely they'd have been taken to The Outsider. It's a military base just outside the city, one they use to keep prisoners until they're interrogated or transferred offworld. It's..."

"It's a fortress that nobody's ever broken out of or into," said Rakad bluntly, "and they've already had long enough to get that load of prisoners locked away. There's no way to fix this. Everyone they took is dead or gone for good. And it's all because of you. It's your fault."

Fanatic's eyes closed, and she breathed slowly. In. Out. And eyes open. She took a couple of steps away from the group, and turned again to face them.

"Friends. You have fought bravely for the freedom of your world. You have held its people in your hearts, and you have risked your lives for their sake. Tonight, some of you lost those lives in that service. Others were captured. Even the place you thought was a safe haven has been taken away from you.

I know that you are frightened. I know you are losing hope. But do not give into despair!" The flash of her eyes glinted off the columns around them, the metal of the armoured vehicles, the fallen weapons of their enemies. "Have faith, and you will see victory! I will not abandon my comrade, and neither will I abandon yours! If this prison has never been conquered, that is only because it has never faced us before! And with God on our side, we cannot fail."

The man who had scolded Rakad gave a wry smile. "Well, if your God gives you the power that took out those soldiers, I can see why you're so confident. But for the rest of us, this is still a massive military base with a whole set of defences that we've got no way past."

Fanatic slashed her hand through the air, dismissive. "We will find a way. Do any of you know its location?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"Perfect. And the Lord has seen fit to bless us with the weapons, armour, and vehicles of enemies to support us in our mission. Is there anyone here who knows the base and its defences?"

There was another murmur, from fewer voices this time, but Fanatic seemed just as satisfied.

"Very well. Those of you who are willing to continue the fight, take what you can from the enemy and take one of the vehicles. Those who know our target well, come and speak with me. Together we will plan our attack."

With that, she walked past the rebels and climbed into one of the vehicles through its open rear hatch.

With a few shared glances and very few words, the others gathered up weapons and armour, and followed. Rakad lagged at the back of the group, but as the others mounted up, she sighed, stepped into the tank, and slammed the hatch closed behind her.

* * *

The two heavy vehicles rolled quickly down the broken road to the coastline, where the fortress hulked over the edge of a cliff. With the lights of the city falling behind them, the darkness was near complete, and the thing was a massive, blocky shadow against the night sky.

The rebel at the front of the tank stared out at it nervously. "I don't know if this is going to work."

"Should've said that sooner, then, shouldn't you."

"Yeah, but I don't know how much criticism that woman would want to hear. Did you see her eyes when Fahbjan told her about the Commander?"

"Sure did. Looked like she was looking forward to a challenge."

The first one shivered. "That's one fight she can have all to herself." He checked his stolen uniform nervously, and someone slapped his hand, making him flinch.

"Stop that. You're a military man. You don't fidget like you've never worn those clothes before."

He grunted, and hooked a thumb under his armour. "Feels strange."

"Well," said the sharp voice behind him, "you've got until we get to that gate to stop feeling strange."

The aforesaid gate was getting closer, casting its shadow over them, swallowing them deep into its maw. The darkness got deeper and deeper, the walls rose higher over them, and still they hadn't arrived.

Someone muttered "The thing's enormous."

"Shut it," said the driver, "we're here."

The first gate rose with a metal scream, let the vehicle pull forward into a sealed-off room, and shrieked back down. Then the lights went out.

"Ahh shit," said the man in front, "they're onto us. We're-"

"Keep it together. Don't panic."

"I'm not panicking. I'm very sensibly saying that we're going to die here."

The sharp crack of the radio startled everyone into silence, and the voice that came over it was as cold and lifeless as any machine. "Name and code."

"Sergeant, uh, Kir'Vehk. 1138-THX."

"Reason for entry?"

"We're returning with prisoners from a raid on a rebel compound."

"Ah yes, your lieutenant notified us you would be arriving. Pull into bay fourteen and prepare for processing." The radio cut out, and the door ahead of them started to slowly grind upwards.

"See?" said the voice behind the fake sergeant. "Nothing to worry about."

"Sure," he answered, and looked out the armoured viewport at the hostile inside of the fortress. "I hope the alien is having such an easy time as we are."

* * *

Fanatic glided through the dark alien sky, slipping quickly through the coastal wind that curled around the fortress. The whole thing looked as impenetrable as she'd been warned. Two concentric octagons laid out its main structure, and the walls were dotted with watch towers and gun emplacements. At the very centre lay an open space, picked out with lights, likely the landing point for shuttlecraft to take prisoners off-planet to some hellish, inescapable tomb of a world.

She tried to ignore the fear, growing in her belly, that was saying her friend had already been shipped out, or that he would be before she could get close to him. It told her there was nothing she could do. It told her she was helpless.

She gritted her teeth, and looked harder.

The walls were cleverly made. Those watchtowers were just dense enough, covering every point tightly enough that she couldn't have slipped past them even at twice her best speed, and so heavily armed that she wouldn't survive long. There was one bright note - it looked as if they had been built to defend from an outside attack only, and couldn't be used against people within. That had probably been intended to prevent them being used in an escape, but it also made an escape a little more survivable. If she could start one. If she could get inside.

She swooped lower. The wall was perfectly smooth, and she knew from experience with Thorathian military construction that it would be harder than steel. Without an obvious weak point, it would be hard for her to ever make it through, and certainly not without attracting lethal attention. But maybe she could find some weakness, if she just looked harder...

Another swoop took her lower still, low enough that she could see the bubbles on the waves that broke against the shore. The wind down here was quick, and she had to work harder to keep her movements steady, and as she fought for altitude, something drew her eye down to those waves.

There was a section there where the waves weren't breaking right. All along the shore they broke cleanly, a smooth, repeating sequence that sent acidic droplets spraying up into the air - but here, they were lower, breaking more softly. As though there were a hollow beneath the wall.

She took a deep breath, flicked her wings up, and then dove sharply into the darkness of the sea.

The first thing she knew was burning, as the acidic fluid ate away at her. It was pitch black, too, even shining as brightly as she dared, she still couldn't make out a single feature. So instead, she let go. She allowed herself to feel the currents, the push and pull of the waves - and as she did so, one of those waves pushed her forwards, pulled back, then pushed again. Something changed above her, the darkness became more complete, and she knew that she'd passed underneath the fortress wall. But the water was still all around her, and her lungs were starting to ache with the need for air.

She pushed upwards, wings sculling through the water, pushing again and again up against the strength of the tide until she felt stone above her. It was rough on her skin, clearly natural, and absolutely impenetrable. A frustrated fist slammed against the stone, and all that did was cut her hand open, blood drifting out into the black. She wanted to scream.

She forced herself to move slowly, carefully, listening to her intuition to know which way to go. Each movement was worse than the last, none of them brought relief and her lungs hurt more and more. But she kept going. She couldn't die. Not here, not now.

Suddenly - her hand lifted free of water. Air. A titanic effort pulled her up into the pocket, and the glow of her eyes cast shadows around a tiny cave, eroded into the rock over a century or more. It was small, there wasn't even room for her wings to open and shed the load of acidic water that still clung to them. But it was a victory, all the same.

She knelt on the uneven stone, closed her eyes, and put her hands together. "Thank you, merciful God, for leading me here. I pray that you help me to find the ones who have been taken prisoner today. I pray you help me to free them."

It was a brief prayer, but it came from her heart, and she felt her body growing stronger again in response. Good. Her hands raised again, exploring the uneven stone above her. There was no obvious weak point - but on the other hand, that meant any possible angle would work as well as another.

She took the sword from her waist, hefted it in both hands, and struck.


End file.
